But the real and abiding attraction of golf is that it mercifully gives
more opportunities to the dressy man than any other pastime. Football
and cricket reduce everyone to a dead level in dress, but in golf there
is any amount of scope for individuality in costume. Take the case of
colour alone. The other day at Finsbury Park station I met a friend on
his way home from a day's golfing, and I noticed that he was sporting
the colours of no fewer than five different clubs. On his cap was the
badge of the Camberwell Crusaders; his tie proved his membership of the
Bickley Authentics; his blazer was that of the Tulse Hill Nondescripts;
his brass waistcoat buttons bore the monogram of the Gipsy Hill Zingari;
the roll of his knickerbocker stockings was embroidered with the crest
of the Kilburn Incogs. The effect of the whole was, if I may be allowed
the word, spicy in the extreme. Of course it is not everyone who can
carry off such a combination, or who can afford to belong to so many
first-class clubs. But my friend is a very handsome man, and has a
handicap of _plus_ two at Tooting Bec.